


The Audacity of Trust

by BloodMooninSpace



Series: Renegades [3]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode AU: s02 e11-12 The Tok'ra, Episode: s02e02 In the Line of Duty, POV Multiple, character focused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2019-12-25 23:32:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18271328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodMooninSpace/pseuds/BloodMooninSpace
Summary: Trust is a fickle thing, and a motorcycle is not so simple to drive.





	1. Muscle Memory

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for the eyes, Fairyglass and Escriveine, and Escriveine for the glorious, perfect Title.

Jolinar rifled through the memories of her host, searching for the relevant patterns of behavior to maintain her cover as Captain Samantha Carter. 

Doctor Janet Fraiser had invited her to see the child called Cassie while the girl was at the hospital in town, and given her host's memories, this was an invitation she couldn't turn down without raising the suspicions of the others. There was a mission scheduled for later in the day to relocate the people evacuated from the world she had been hiding on. She could say hello to the child, go on the mission, and take a new host off world. 

Exiting the base was a complicated affair of security, and Jolinar brushed aside the thought of aligning with these people. The Tok'ra were so set in their actions as subversives and saboteurs, they would not ally well with so warlike a culture. The vast thing her host called a parking lot could have fit several Alkesh with room enough for troop offloading, and yet it was entirely dedicated to the stationary storage of land-crawling vehicles, cars. 

A surgical look through her host's memories led her to the vehicle that her host claimed as her own. It was under a tarp that her host had memory of storing in the back 'saddlebags'. This vehicle was bizarre, and balanced on two of the wheels instead of the four that were common enough through the rest of the parking lot. Mounting the Vehicle and starting it was easier than stealing an Alkesh or wiring a console in the engine room of a Ha'tak to overload, but the thing would not balance. Reaching deeper into her hosts' mind, she pushed through a trove of memories of operating the machine.

> Wind whipped at her face in the memories, and adrenaline flooded her body now and in the memory alike. Her host was small, still child enough to ride before her father, and he to see over her head. She was carefully adjusting the radio to a perfect clarity as they rode down the highway, the protective heat of her father wrapped around her, strong and secure. 

Jolinar gasped and pulled her mind free of that memory, it was of no use in the operation of this contraption. 

> Sam was whipping along the highway, it was the middle of nowhere in Montana, and she was flying along, pushing 120 on the long stretch of open highway between two open ranges of pasture. The road flew by underneath her, and the wind was fresh with the wet smells of spring. It was hours of easy balance before she began weaving her way, slower and more controlled, up the long access road to a remote cabin. 

* _ NO _ * the word ripped through her mind with venom, and Jolinar recoiled from that memory, still unaware of how to safely get the bike rolling. She had been through their post-mission medical procedures, and she had seen many other medical operations were within the capabilities of the base. The last thing she wanted to do was crash and end up in back in those doctors care, risking exposing herself and more importantly, delaying the mission and her return to the Tok'ra.

* _ Oh, no, the worst part of crashing would be you ruining my bike. Do you know how much work I've put into this baby _ ?* The voice was echoing through the body's mind, indignant and protective. Jolinar felt a flash of horror. She was no longer suppressing her host. The host would remember her, she had blended, no matter how faintly, with this host. That involved rooting oneself into the spinal column of the host and made sudden transfers of hosts very difficult. It also left clear memories of the hosting, and of the onac who was there. 

* _ Just let me _ * 

Jolinar mentally recoiled as she felt the host fighting to take control of the body. She had to preserve her cover, had to get off-world, there was a spy among the Tok'ra -- Jolinar caught on far too late that she was communicating to her host.

* _ The surest way to convince me that you are honestly looking to get out of my head at the first opportunity is to start by letting me ride my baby over to the hospital. You can't pretend to be me better than I can, right? _ *

* _ I need to return to the Tok'ra, it is of the utmost importance. The system lords have a spy among our ranks. _ *

* _ Debrief me on the ride over. _ * Her host again pressured her for control, and Jolinar released her stranglehold on the body. Samantha smoothly and quickly got the bike rolling, badged them through the final security check at the main gate, and opened up the throttle on the road out towards the town. 

* * *

Sam let the familiar thrum of her bike's engines lull her into a semblance of calm as she listened to the snake in her head. It communicated with flashes of memories, taking control of her body and the bike when Sam got too lost in what the snake was telling her.

* _ My name is Jolinar, of Malkshur. I am a member of the Tok'ra and I seek the downfall of the system lords.* _

Sam feels the control of her body wrested from her as she becomes entrenched in a memory.

> The ship is glittering and bright, the gilded bridge of a Ha’tak, on the screen before her is Cronus, he is speaking, his voice layered with the resonance of a Goa’uld. The words are in Goa’uld, but the knowledge of what he says presses her beyond a mere translation.
> 
> "Foolish little one, you will not be remembered for this petty rebellion."

There is an ache in that understanding, an overwhelming  _ need _ to be remembered, for her name to pass on through the years, even if she dies here today.

> The Ha’tak’s systems are failing under the onslaught of the weapons fire from Cronus’ ships. Shields spring back to life, and just in time to keep the ship from being torn apart in space by the weapons fire, but the ship is drifting, being pulled down towards the planet in an uncontrolled descent. 
> 
> The air is acrid and stale from overloads and vented atmosphere, as Jolinar steps over the bodies of fallen Jaffa.  Most of the figures are slumped over in the hallways, as Jolinar seeks a tel’tek with which to affect an escape. But there is one who is still standing, an underling who had brought her information on Apophis ship movements. It was his information that had moved her up in Cronus estimation enough that she had command of a Ha’tak. With a Ha’tak, she had tried to seize several lesser worlds. That plan had failed.
> 
> “Jolinar” He said. “I can help you strike at Cronus, the Tok’ra do not seize territory, but with Cronus rising to power, we will be sabotaging him often.”
> 
> Jolinar took this Tok’ra spy up on his offer.

Sam was ripped through a blurry sequence of memories, missions, and covert actions, and taking credit for them all, standing defiant as Jolinar took credit for Tok’ra actions, loudly claiming that affiliation for several hundred years, until so many Jaffa knew her name, and the name of the movement of the Tok’ra. 

Under it all, Sam felt a thread of knowledge and familiarity, seeing the face from the first Ha’tak, watching the snake transfer from that body to another, and another, so often the strikes were with him at her side --

_ *You need not know about Lantash*  _  The snake had the same haughty tones and arrogant assurance she had heard from every snake they had met, but Sam felt emotions roll through her that were not her own. The fierce desire to protect flooded down her spine, at its heels was a wave of anger so overwhelming it made her sick. Her mouth watered at the prospect of tearing out the spine of the assassin who had cost her the host Rosha, and her skin felt too tight with the need to move. She shifted her bike into a lower gear and wound down the curves of the side road approaching the back entrance to the hospital, relieved to be handling her body and her bike alike. 

* _ You sound like every Goa'uld I've ever met. _ * Sam shoved the thought at her snake, for the arrogance and self-assurance in Jolinar's voice was as grating as knowing that the snake could wrest control of her body back at any moment. Indeed, the snake took control as Sam parked her bike in an open spot, her kickstand puck already in hand. The snake put Sam’s helmet on the seat and the gloves in the saddlebag. 

* _ I am of their bloodline, what more would you expect of me? I was not borne of Egeria, with their self-important moral superiority.*  _

Sam doesn't respond. Watching from within as her snake walks them into the building, and checks in with the visitor's desk. It’s normal visiting hours, they don’t have to actually sign any log sheet. 

_ *There is a spy, loyal to the system lords, among the ranks of the Tok’ra that is in a position to betray and compromise many of our operatives as they betrayed me to the Goa’uld Lord who has set an ashrak on my heels. This spy, if they are not caught, could even betray our home tunnels, eliminating the strongest resistance to the System Lords.  The Council is unaware of this, and I must return to warn them and ferret out which among us was turned from our cause _ .  _ Lantash is at risk, as are the people who enable my revenge. I will Do Anything to bring the System Lords to their knees, and see their flesh in chunks, rotting on dry land. _ * The venom in Jolinar's voice made it clear enough that this was a grave insult, even before the flashes of memory showed Sam a queen, hunting in the mating waters, and how exile to rot on dry land was a death without heirs, a death forgotten. 

* _ What makes these Tok'ra so noble? _ * Sam asked, even as she watched through captive eyes as the snake spoke to Janet, got directions to the therapy room Cassie was using as a playroom today. 

* _ They do not take hosts by force, only volunteers. _ * There was judgment in Jolinar's tone, of what, Sam could not place. 

* _ Some volunteer I am _ * Sam thought at the snake, pushing her impatience and disbelief. 

_ * I am not overburdened by the ethics that Egeria wove into her children’s natures. I acted in violation of the Tok'ra morals, but it is not an action that I regret. Such regret is not in my nature, though I will be censured for my actions, I will not allow them to die.* _

_ *The ends justify the means?*  _ Sam asked the snake, bitterness sweeping her. It was unsettling to have those feelings examined within her own mind, and cast aside.

_ *The ashrak chased me, and in our flight, I endured the loss of Rosha, far before that host should have died. I took a man from the village as host, unwilling to die and leave the remaining Tok'Ra vulnerable. The ashrak guarded the gate zealously, and for months he prevented my escape. The ashrak must have called for an attack fleet, because merely a few weeks after you Tauri arrived, so did the death gliders. _

_ The host I was hiding in was hit with an impact from a blast fired by a death glider. You gave my host medical care, but I felt him dying, and again I was faced with the choice between allowing myself to die for the morality of the Tok'Ra, or take an unwilling host and attempt to save the resistance. It was not a difficult choice, Samantha Carter. * _

* * *

Jolinar pushes her host back as they reach the right room. Jolinar knocks on the door and pokes her head in, presenting excitement and pitching her hosts voice to carry.

“Hey Cassie, mind if I come in?”

The kid leaps up from her coloring, and Jolinar opens the door, walking into the room and closing the door behind her. Jolinar drops to one knee to embrace the child, as she saw in her hosts' memories.


	2. Cassandra

Cassandra gasped in her arms, tearing her small body free of the embrace.

"Cassandra, what is it?" Jolinar asked, fear racing through her mind.

The girl doesn't answer, instead, running across the room and hiding behind the couch.

Jolinar stood tall and allowed her eyes to flash.

"You are afraid, little child. I can guess by the naquadah in your veins you know well the horrors the Goa'uld can inflict upon a world." Jolinar tried to keep her voice steady.  Her chance of getting out of this host and into someone else was slim now that she was discovered. This child feared the Goa'uld, but perhaps she could be convinced to stay her tongue.

"Nirrti put a bomb in my heart." Cassie said with the barest of wobbles in her voice, staring defiantly up at her.

"That is one of the many cruel things the Goa'uld are capable of, and I understand your fear. But Kree, hear me, child. I do not know what queen spawned me, such knowledge was not passed on to me. But I do Know of the home waters, and of a time when Queens judged every Onac who cut the waters singing their adventures. Egeria is a spawning Queen, she has the Right to sit in judgment of the waters, and while I joined the Tok’ra for vengeance, I have -- changed, over time. Cronus had no right to judge me, neither did Apophis. If Egeria yet lived, I would swim for her, sing for her, and tempt her with my tail. I would die to know that she tasted of my genetic memories, I would die with Joy knowing that she might grant me the honor of a spawning that remembered me, that my name and deeds would be sung in the waters for thousands of years.

“She spawned the Tok’ra as a judgment against the Goa’uld.  I cannot allow a spy to bring the Tok’ra down. The Tok’ra are a death sentence, justly leveled against the System Lords.

“I took a man from the village as host, unwilling to die and leave the remaining Tok'Ra vulnerable to betrayal. The ashrak guarded the gate zealously, and for months he prevented my escape. The host I was hiding in was hit with an impact from a blast fired from a death glider. Sam gave my host medical care, but I felt him dying, and again I was faced with the choice between allowing myself to die for the morality of the Tok'Ra,  or take an unwilling host and attempt to save the resistance."

"A spy, that's like having a bomb in the heart of the Tok'Ra,  isn't it?" The little girl was looking at her, with a raw expression of wary trust.

"Yes, child. Will you hold your silence, that I may return to my people and save us?" Jolinar trembled at the idea of trusting this little hatchling with the future of the Tok’ra.

“I don’t want to lie to Dr. Fraiser, she’s adopted me, she’s my new mom, please don’t ask me to lie.” The little girl was trembling, her little hands shaking like leaves in a heavy wind.

One might break other beings' ethical codes, but it was the way of the Goa'uld to force their subjects to break their own ethics. Jolinar looked around the office, casting her thoughts frantically for a way to keep her cover and complete her mission.

_'You could try trusting us’_ The hosts' voice is soft and resigned in Jolinar’s mind. Jolinar’s eyes are drawn to the corner of the room, where a tank of water with colorful fish is lit from above and has a little pump feeding bubbles into the water. Trust. It was an act of trust, that Lantash saved her. There are many lines that Jolinar will cross, to save the Tok’ra, and repay that trust, but the harming of a child is the act of a goa’uld, unnecessary cruelty.

“Child, know this,” Jolinar spoke with the resonance, and then let it drop. “I will not threaten your family, you need not lie. In exchange, I ask that you protect me as I protect the trust you have with your mother. Little one, plead for my life, and for the lives of the Tok’ra, for the spy could do great damage if I cannot ferret them out.” Jolinar stood and swiftly crossed the room. The tank wasn’t connected to anything, so it was simple to move it to the floor, and sit her host’s body down next to the tank.

_‘Samantha Carter, the fate of the Tok’ra lies in your hands.’_ Jolinar turned her hosts' head, and opened the hosts' jaw, and cut her way free. In her true vision, Jolinar can see the movement of the fish in the tank, and she dives, her fins cutting into the water.

A tight turn, and Jolinar settles down to the bottom of the tank, looking out from the water to watch the child run for the door, as her host slumps to the floor.


	3. Ashrak Smackdown

The snake was swimming in slow circles around the tank when Sam woke up the first few times. Some time ago, the snake had settled down to the bottom of the tank. It was now curled in on itself, its head kept wafting back and forth, its gills wavering. Sam couldn’t really remember anything from being its host; not anything clear, it was all a general blur. She’d spent far too long standing here, staring and thinking. When the meeting with the general ended, Doctor Fraiser would be back and would task her back to her bed, but she couldn’t just lie there and think, she wanted to be on her feet.

There was a noise at the door, and a man barged in. He was coming at her, his hand raised, a triangular device in his palm glowing, and Sam was struck with a wave of terror. 

> He was chasing her, and the forest was dark, neither of the small moons casting any light on her path. Her lungs burned with exertion, but the village was right ahead. There was the sparkle of stars off the lake, she could make it, she could make it. There was a searing agony across her nerves, a heat down her spine. She was on her knees in the mud, fleeing through the air, cold air, cold mud. Reaching hands, a host again, in through the mouth, don’t leave a scar, suppress him, don’t scar his mind with your memories –

Sam felt herself reaching for her gun, her palm scraping across the material on her hip where her side-arm wasn’t, there wasn’t a combat knife on her leg either. Sam stood and scrambled back, and the man looked so confused, his gaze flickering back and forth between her and the – Jolinar. She saw the moment when he made the decision on who was the greater threat, and as she balled her hands into fists, he turned from her to the tank where Jolinar was swimming helplessly.

He raised his hand, and Sam knew with a dead certainty that she couldn’t explain, that device on his palm was lethal to the Tok’Ra who had trusted her with its life.

There was a standard SGC emergency instruments tray sitting on a rolling cart in easy reach, and Sam grabbed it, swinging the tray so it would impact the ashrak with the full force of the swing on the edge of the tray. There was a sticky crack and he stumbled into the tank, a secondary smack as his forehead caught the edge of the tank, his blood running sluggishly down his face from a cut above his left eye.

Sam threw the tray at his face, using it to buy herself a few seconds to look at the instruments scattered on the floor. There was a scalpel pack by the nearest bed, and Sam rolled low, scooping it up, freeing one of the blades as she rolled to her feet. The rest she dumped on the bed, out of the way. With a last glance at the floor to mentally map where the safe footing was, she lifted the blade and came in close. Since facing off with the Mongol Chief, she had put more hours into her unarmed combat practice. It was too close in his camp, and those hours of work may save her life here.

The ashrak raised his hand, the device glowing, and Sam smirked, darting in, slashing at his wrist. The glowing faded as he gave a cry of pain, bleeding freely from a long shallow gash. She grabbed his flailing arm in a move she had learned from a woman who always smelled of patchouli, spouting off every week about free love being freely given, but instead of slamming the heel of her hand into his chin like she was taught, Sam brought the scalpel up, blade pointing out past her pinky to drag across his neck. He landed a few left-handed punches to her exposed ribs, and she winced and slashed again.

She released him as he stumbled back, his eyes flashing, his hands scrabbling at his throat. He went down, but Sam didn’t trust that she had killed him properly. With a glance around the infirmary, Sam sent a silent thank-you out into the universe that Janet had begun to keep one of the beds rigged for medical restraint.  She hauled the body over to the bed, and had gotten the first wrist locked in when she noticed that his neck was healed enough to be pinking over with scar tissue. She darted around the bed and had his second wrist in the unlocked cuff when his eyes flashed, and he tried to sit up. Pressing down on the cuff with her left hand, Sam pivoted and threw her weight into her right elbow, clocking him across the jaw.

He fell back into the bed, dazed and she locked the cuff, cursing about the pain in her elbow. She sagged against the monitor for a second, the adrenaline in her system faltering in the wake of the fight. Sam lurched over to the door and slammed the red alert button on the wall by the doorframe, cradling her injured arm. There was a blurry moment of the world going grey around the edges, and then airmen were thundering down the hall.

“She’s still in the tank, he tried to kill us both.” Sam said as one of them gave her a steadying hand.

“Sir, permission to open fire.” One of the airmen barked in her general direction.

“Granted.” She managed to say it without her voice cracking, she felt her energy waning as she sagged against the airman. He helped her over to the bed by the tank, sweeping the spare scalpels up as she sat down.

The room was getting a little blurry. And it was wobbling a little.

* * *

 

“Captain Carter, how are you doing?” Dr. Fraiser was standing in front of her, looking quite concerned.

Colonel O’Neil and General Hammond were standing by the door, looking worried.

“The ashrak tried to kill us both.” Sam said, gesturing to the bloody bed on the other side of the room that she had secured the ashrak in. “She’s a rebel, sir. I’m sure of it.” Sam said, looking over at the tank. Jolinar was swimming around the tank, back and forth with razor-sharp turns. “We should talk to her.”

The room was spinning, growing fuzzier, and Sam had a passing moment of recognition at how nice the pillows in the infirmary really were before she blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in the sprawling Renegades universe. It is complete as written, but may have more added to it, if the universe requires. 
> 
> Thanks to the ladies on the SGC discord for the handholding and cheerleading, you have been very motivating, and have fed the muses.


	4. Interlude: Teal'c

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teal'c has seen many things as a first prime guard of Apophis, but never anything like this.

Teal’c waited in the hall at the door of General Hammonds office, as he had many times before. It was a familiar position, waiting to be recognized and permitted his audience with the one who summoned him. General Hammond was far more worthy of his loyalty, devotion, and service than the false god Apophis ever was. General Hammond was honorable, and a man who has already proven that he would inform Teal’c directly when General Hammond’s superiors intended to break their agreements.

“Ah, come in, son.” General Hammond often spoke with great familiarity with those who he led and held in favorable regard. It is an honor to be among those treated to this diminutive nickname. “What do you know of these Tok’ra?”

“Apophis, on several occasions, sent me in command of a squadron, to search a planet for the tunnel structures that the Tok’ra are alleged to use.” Teal’c concealed the shiver of glee he felt every time he referred to the false god by an abstracted name, without the appropriately respectful ‘my lord’. It is a subtle rebellion, known only to himself, a rebellion that would not translate to the language and culture of the Tau’ri. Daniel Jackson, the former host of Apophis, had caught the subtle disrespect to the dead false god; and had smirked.

“I was never able to locate any of the tunnels. A lo’taur of a Goa’uld who sowed dissension amongst the ranks once spoke of the Tok’ra collecting up their tunnels behind them, to further conceal their presence.”

“What do you think the chances are that we have a Tok’ra in a tank in our infirmary, Teal’c.” General Hammond was wise to doubt the word given to him by a potential adversary.

“I have never known a Goa’uld to leave their host without loyal Jaffa to secure their return. I had only seen Apophis leave a host when he desired a new flesh, or when he was to swim in the spawning waters with his queen. Amaunet would only leave her host to spawn. It was she who wished for a new host for her mate, and at her command, the stargates of both Earth and Abydos were breached, seeking to take hosts from Ra’s domain, and thereby prove him dead. The actions taken by this Jolinar do seem to be inconsistent with a goa’uld.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” General Hammond nodded. “We need allies if we are to defend Earth against further incursions, let alone free other worlds from the Goa’uld. Bra’tac and the other free Jaffa are good allies, but we won’t turn down an opportunity at a new alliance.”

General Hammond stood, and Teal’c followed him out to the briefing room where Colonel O’Neill was waiting for them. The door between the general's office and the briefing room had been open, and though Teal’c had not realized that he had been overheard speaking to the general, he was glad to not have to repeat himself.

“General, if Captain Carter's willing to blend again, that moves up the timeline for our mission to seek out these Tok’ra. Cassandra was really worked up about making sure we went after the spy Jolinar was calling the 'bomb in the heart of the Tok’ra'. If the Captain doesn't want to host, we will have to find someone else who is willing, and I don’t feel comfortable trying to make the diplomatic approach while holding Jolinar in a tank.” Colonel O’Neill was making notes on the pad in front of him. Teal’c could see there were a few jotted notes about mission prep and timetables. Colonel O’Neill often thinks in logistics, a fitting commander indeed.

“We can prepare both courses of action simultaneously.” Teal’c offered. “We can prepare for the mission to the Tok’ra with Captain Carter. If she agrees to host, Jolinar will be able to strengthen her body, and she will be mission-ready quickly. If she does not wish to host, we should have already searched the program for potential secondary hosts. The Goa’uld have sharp senses that are not like our own. We should be prepared for Jolinar to reject other potential hosts. Apophis rejected several hosts before selecting Daniel Jackson. Jolinar may be as selective when given a choice.”

“Then again, she did take the Nasyan man in a pinch, and then Captain Carter when he was dying. Those actions strike me as pretty darn pragmatic.”

Teal’c inclined his head, acknowledging and agreeing with Colonel O’Neill’s assessment. It was a tactically sound deduction based on the observed behavior at hand.

“Colonel O’Neill, begin preparations for both potential missions. Put an all call out to the base for volunteer hosts, should Captain Carter be unwilling. Regardless of who the host ends up being, we should be ready to send SG-1 out with Jolinar as soon as Jolinar has retaken a host.”

Colonel O’Neill stood and saluted General Hammond. “Yes, Sir.”

Colonel O’Neill had said those words many times in the last year. While in function they suited the place in speech of accepting commands, much as Teal’c used to say ‘yes, my lord,’ Colonel O’Neill managed to imbue them with so many other responses. Colonel O’Neill tinted the words with feeling and reaction that would have gotten him a session with a Rod of Anguish, to reform his manners. The Tau'ri of Earth were not beaten for lack of specificity, nor insolence. They were slower to punishment than the Goa’uld System Lords.

“Teal’c, would you join me while I visit Captain Carter?” General Hammond offered him far more choices than were available serving Apophis. It imbued the challenging tasks with a greater responsibility than he had ever felt serving Apophis.

As they walked through the hallways, Teal’c was gratified to see that the airmen they passed came briskly to attention for their General. These halls had a hallowed sense to them, the way that many of the temples to the Goa’uld had on Chulak. These airmen did not run from their commander, nor flinch from his gaze. They stood tall, and the most easily discernible expression on their faces, time and again, even after a year of watching, was pride. These airmen serve motivated by pride and a sense of duty. Here, beneath the mountain, they did not fear their failure would lead to Anguish. Nor did they hide their families and offspring. There were pictures of their dependants in their lockers and fond discussions of their spouses. There was no fear here, that failure would lead to accusations of distraction, followed by the torture of their loved ones, so that the god may have undistracted service.

Teal’c turned over these thoughts again; his musings and observations are familiar as he thought of his son and the woman who honored him with her love. When he was granted the rank of First Prime, a guardian of the innermost chambers of the gods, Apophis had permitted him to start a family. That permission had been followed by the order to raise children as loyal to their god as Teal’c was himself.

Given how these people of the Tauri treated their own dependants, perhaps they would grant him a mission to collect Drey’auc and their son.

Teal’c put aside these thoughts as they reached the infirmary. Doctor Fraiser greeted them.

“Hey Doc, how's Cassie doing?” General Hammond conveyed much warmth in his voice. He cared deeply for those who served with him on this base, and every reminder strengthened Teal’c’s commitment to the fight against the Goa’uld. Every fighter should be cared for by their superiors the way General Hammond values his troops. Teal’c turned from Cronus in his youth for squandering the lives of Jaffa, but even at the right hand of Apophis, he had not seen commanders value their troops the way the service members of the SGC were valued.

“She's pretty concerned about Jolinar, and the Tok’ra. She took the analogy of what Nirrti did to her, and a spy amongst the rebellion to heart as only a child can. She’s also pretty worried about Sam. If there's any way for me to get her cleared to come back on base, she should see for herself that Captain Carter is recovering just fine.”

“Speaking of the Captain, is she awake?”

“Yes, and able to accept visitors. At this point, I’m just keeping her for observation.”

General Hammond was soft and kind in explaining the situation to Captain Carter. She asked pointed and intelligent questions, and in the end, the General accepted her answer with no reservation.


	5. Commitment Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has made her decision, and she shares a couple of heavy discussions with Daniel Jackson.

The tank was a small room off the main infirmary, a dedicated security camera aimed at it. Sam grabbed the office chair from the desk and sat down to watch. The creature swimming back and forth didn’t look like the kind of threat that could end life on the planet, yet Sha’re’s report about the other dimension was clear. In that dimension, their SGC was unable to stop Apophis, and two Ha’tak class ships had conquered the Earth.

Sam shifted in her chair and crossed her arms. It was too close, but they rescued Daniel. This time it was her own life they had saved. By that creature, Jolinar.

In the abstract, the military applications of having an ally from among the ruling class of the alien creatures would be invaluable. Jolinar was a goa’uld and the scientific advancements Sam could make if Jolinar was working with her were alluring, but it was still pretty scary to think about reaching in and taking Jolinar out.

“Captain Carter?” The voice was light and male, and when Sam turned, she saw Doctor Jackson.

“Yes?”

“We met on Abydos. Daniel Jackson.”

Sam laughed, rueful and dry. “I remember you, Doctor Jackson. Even if I hadn’t, SG-1 has been searching for you for almost a year.”

“I still find that a little hard to internalize. I stayed on Abydos because I thought there was nothing, no one, left on Earth for me. When Apophis had me, I knew none of my adopted tribe on Abydos could rescue me. I was --” His eyes go bright with tears, and he chokes on his words for a moment. “Sometimes, when he pushed me back, the world was just pain. Unbearable pain, and agony. Other times, I was forced to watch through his eyes, for the body was his, and I was just a passenger. The worst was when I could feel everything. When I could feel his control like puppet strings on my limbs. I was a ready torture victim he kept with him. Apophis enjoyed my suffering.  The best part was when he didn’t want the distraction, and he shoved me into the nothingness. When nothing hurt, and I was alone, wrapped in the warm dark.”

It was chilling, to hear him describe what she had so narrowly avoided. In another universe, the snake she picked up might not have let her go. It could have been a creature as vile and sadistic as Apophis, and she would be living that nightmare right now.

Daniel was staring at her, his expression beseeching as he searched her face for something.

“Was it like that, for you?” he asked.

Sam paused before she answered, and found that the words wouldn't come while she was facing him. She turned instead to the tank.

“I know what you mean.” She finally started. “About feeling like a passenger, and how that was different than when it felt like puppet strings. I also know about the nothingness. As I remember it, I was on the planet, giving a guy mouth-to-mouth, and then I was in the parking lot, staring at my Harley. There were these thoughts and feelings pressing at me. She wanted to maintain her cover and get off-world as fast as possible. And then when she let me ride my bike, I still felt the puppet strings, right there, like any moment --” Sam swallowed hard, her throat dry.

“And she did. She took control away, and I was a passenger in my own body, walking through the VA hospital. I watched as she made small talk, preserved all the social niceties, and went to Cassandra. If Cassie couldn’t sense naquadah, I would have just disappeared on a mission.”

“They would have gotten you back. The team got me back, and we will get Skarra too.” He sounded so earnest, so sincere. This wild-eyed civilian, freshly back from captivity, still confined to base, and he was the one reassuring her.

“Thanks, Doctor Jackson. I do know that, even if Jolinar didn’t jump to a new host as soon as we reached a population center, Jack and Teal’c and Sha’re would have come for me. God, Daniel, you married one hell of a woman. Sometimes I remember that she’s barely beyond a teenager, and other times she makes Jack sound young with her weary knowledge and depth of wisdom. She's tenacious and dedicated, and she's saved us in the field on more than one occasion.”

Daniel made a choking sound, and Sam looked up. Daniel slid down the wall. He looked broken, and was breathing hard.

“She's in the gym, with Teal’c.” He forced the words out between heaving gasps. “I left after she put him on his back. She went from mildly out of my league, to this action badass that is so far beyond the academic Doctor Jackson, let alone what I am now: a traumatized recovering host with nothing to contribute to the program.” His last statement was punctuated with a wracking sob, and his hands clutched at the air as he fought to draw in irregular lungfuls.

“You have no idea how she sees you, do you? There's an interview, from when we were trying to get approval for the program, and I sure hope I can get you approval to watch her tell the men in the room, and the camera, exactly who you were to her. The man she loves is honest, turning down status for the truth. The man she fought to recover was a good husband, a partner in the house and the city alike. And I wish I had recordings of some of the conversations she and I have had this last year. I think she fell in love with you again, digging through your books and your notes. I helped her place colloquialisms and slang, and she shared your sense of humor. She pored over your library, trying to bring what you had learned into the field so that she could be our anthropologist. She took everything she learned from her father, and everything she learned from your library and the stories you had told her of Earth and myth, she took all of that, and she made treaties and alliances on more than a dozen worlds so far. She sat in the Oval Office and shaped the Stargate program, and the first thing she said walking out of there was to ask if Colonel O’Neill thought you could have done better.”

Sam found herself tripping over her words, desperate to make him understand. Her parent's divorce had been so bitter there in the end, and when her mom confided that they had never really loved each other, that Mark was an accident, and so was she-- no, these two couldn't fall apart because they both didn't see themselves as good enough for the other. They could make it; they deserved a happy marriage if anyone on the damn planet did.

“Don’t give up on your marriage before the two of you have had the chance to make things work again. You had a good year together on Abydos. You were captive for a year. Round it out, and give it at least a year here on Earth? Please?”

“You really think we can make it?” He sounded so desperate when he asked, and he looked it too, but there's something new in his expression. A glimmer of cautious hope amongst the abject yearning, that made Sam hopeful too.

“You have a better shot at it than my parents did — shotgun wedding. Two kids later and he re-upped, and made the Airforce a career. They were always happiest when he was deployed, and how fucked up is that.”

“My parents both got fixed after I was born. They loved me, but sometimes, growing up; it sucked to be an afterthought to their work. I got to go on some cool digs as a kid.” He tipped his head back against the wall, and the tears finally broke. “Did she tell you? That we lost our first kid? We were so excited, and when the baby was stillborn, I was just so glad that Sha’re survived. The whole year on Abydos, and that was the only time I missed Earth. I didn’t want the best midwives in the city. I wanted a fully staffed maternity ward and a surgical suite. I wanted pain meds for her, and I wanted to know that the best doctors in the known universe were taking care of her.”

“Daniel --” his name fell out before she could catch herself.

“She was so excited, and now, I don’t know if I can give her that chance again. I don’t know if I can be a good dad, and she's such an amazing woman, she should have that chance.”

Sam rasped out a broken laugh. “Yeah, that’s a lot of pressure you’re putting on yourself. And here I was stewing about my fear over hosting again. I’d decided to do it; I was just wrestling with the fear. Same as before any time I flew a combat mission. Know the fear ahead of time, make friends with it, and let it sharpen your focus. That was what one of the instructors told me at the Academy. So, since I am the last person who can give you parenting advice, I’m going to shunt this off to either Doctor Frasier, or the base psychologist. Take your pick. Just remember, even if the goa’uld messed with you and you’re shooting blanks, Cassie was adopted. This is going to be a long war, and war makes orphans. If you want a family, there will be kids who need parents.”

Sam stood up and faced the tank in front of her. Yeah, things could have been worse for her, but in this universe, here and now, she had a fantastic opportunity and a grand adventure right in front of her, swimming idle laps.

“Daniel, if you don’t want to be here for this, you better leave now.”


	6. New Reality

Sam didn't hear any response from Daniel. There was just the general noise from the infirmary beyond the door to the room. She reached into the tank and the symbiote curled around her hand. She brought it up in front of her face, and waited, slack-jawed, for Jolinar to do the rest.

Sam fought not to gag when the symbiote pushed into her mouth. The sensation of the snake in her mouth and her throat was so fundamentally alien that Sam chuckled, choking for a moment as the snake cut its way in, then laughing as she felt Jolinar joining with her again.

 _*What's so funny*_ The question was sharp as her new partner spoke in her mind.

“Captain Carter?” Daniel asked from behind her, sounding worried.

Sam turned, pleased to find that for now, Jolinar was allowing her full control.

“As she joined with me, I was thinking about how alien the sensation was, of the snake in my throat, and for some reason, in the moment, that was hilarious,” Sam explained.

“Yeah, that is pretty funny, isn’t it. So, she’s --” Daniel fell silent, seeming unable to finish his sentence adequately.

Sam felt it, as Jolinar pushed forward, the world going white-bright as her eyes flashed, and Sam felt her own voice speak, but with the deep and resonant tones she had come to associate with the Goa’uld.

“You have questions, Doctor Jackson?” It was strange to feel her own mouth speak, but easier this time, knowing that she invited Jolinar to share with her.

“Yes, but I -- I’m not quite --” he paused before restarting. “Yes, thank you, and if I can get time with you at some point in the future, I would like to ask them. But for now, I know you have a mission to the Tok’ra.”

“It’s been approved then?” Again, Jolinar spoke without her, and Sam found the experience strange, but not unbearable.

 _*The final call was mine. We weren’t going to try to contact your people without you along. It was my decision to host you again, instead of trying to find an airman or Abydan who would volunteer. Are you ready to brief the team?*_ Sam asked.

Jolinar’s confusion was easy enough to read, so Sam pulled up memories of various briefings, and pressed them all forward in a rush, trusting that Jolinar would be able to take either a general impression or sort all of the information quickly.

* * *

Jolinar had not expected them to allow her another host, let alone this forgiveness. From the water, it was hard to track the humans, and she had no company in the water, no one returned to sing to her of what was happening in the human world. When the hand scooped her out of the water, it could have meant anything, and then -- the unique blend of scent markers and pheromones that marked her previous host. Samantha Carter, holding Jolinar before her face. And this host joked about the joining process.

Jolinar drew her control back, allowing the host to take them forward. Armed guards joined them on the other side of the door. Jolinar lifted their chin, straightened their back, and shared with her host in the same manner as the host had shared with her. A flurry of memories, of honor guards and bodyguards, and a few times she had been a prisoner before --

 _*Samantha, there is something you should know, before we brief everyone else.*_ Jolinar felt her host's curiosity, bright and sharp and beautiful. _*Rosha was involved with Martouf, host of Lantash. Lantash and I have a long history. You should prepare yourself for Martouf’s grief.*_

Her host took them through many corridors, a facility built of composite and stone of depth and complexity to rival a Goa’uld palace, but built underground like the Tok’ra tunnels.

*You find this impressive, wait until they clear you to see the rest of Earth.* Sam pushed forward memories of cities, full of people. Towers higher than the Goa’uld built. A cityscape with a name pressed to it: New York Skyline.

Jolinar trembled a bit at the memory. That is a massive city.

Something of her awe must have passed to her host, because Sam shared more memories, of being a passenger in a plane, of flying combat missions, views of the earth from in the air that bring with them knowledge of these places. Population counts that are staggering.

Jolinar wrested control of their body and drew to a halt. She could feel the panic reaction flooding their body, and knew it to be from her, but she could not stop it.

“Can you answer questions for me?” she demanded of the airmen in the hallway with her, and the guards all raised their weapons. There was fear on their faces, but their hands were steady as they aimed zat’nik’tel and handgun alike.

“That depends on the question, Jolinar.” The voice came from a man who has stepped into the hall. Her host identified him for her. General Hammond, the commander of this base.

“How many humans live on this world. A number, and an explanation of your system of counting, please. My host must be mistaken.” Jolinar was proud that her ear detected no tremor in her voice.

“The US conducts a census, as do many other countries. For the rest of the world, the best we can do is an estimate. There are a wide variety of countries and governments on this planet.” He gestured to an aide who disappeared through a doorway. Behind her, Doctor Jackson spoke.

“We use a system we call Imperial. It's base ten mathematics.” Jolinar multiplied her understanding of the number by itself and a quarter, converting from her familiar base eight to the base ten system of mathematics used here on Earth. When the aide returned, he said a number that was even higher than her host’s understanding of the population. At her Samantha's pressing need to know why Jolinar is so horrified, Jolinar opens her mind to her host, dragging up planets, and solar systems, and knowledge of how System Lords run their planets.

Jolinar withdrew, unable to put her thoughts into words, let alone take the time to explain it to these humans.

“Sir.” Her host began. “Jolinar is a bit overwhelmed. If her understanding of is accurate, we might have half of the galaxy's population right here on Earth. Or at least, there are as many people on Earth as currently under the control of the System Lords. They like their populations small and controllable, and they prefer to keep their Jaffa armies small enough that personal connections work as a lot of the social glue in their society. The foot soldiers know a guy who has witnessed their god work miracles. Medical advances are quashed, and population booms are purged when the goa’uld controlling that planet sees them eclipsing the intended purposes of that world. Jolinar had thought us a moderately successful world, and a potential source pool of hosts for the Tok’ra. In light of our industrial capacity, Jolinar appears to have shifted her consideration of our allyship.”

“How so?” The general’s tone was sharp.

Jolinar pushed forward to answer. “You have the ability to do far more than I initially gave your world credit for, General Hammond. With guidance and support, you could build a fleet to rival that of the System Lords. You could take and hold galactic territory. You could establish colonies and safe worlds. We could evacuate slaves from Goa’uld worlds that we were unable to hold. You could fundamentally change the nature of warfare as it has existed for the last six thousand years.”

“They have already slain Ra and Apophis. The false gods should tremble, and weep, and prepare their funeral rites.” The woman who stepped out of the doorway and into the hall. She spoke with a level assurance and a knife’s edge threat that could have been delivered from the bridge of any Ha’tak, by any of the System Lords, and not have sounded as grand.


	7. Briefing

Sam felt Jolinar withdraw. She almost felt sorry for the snake; it was clear that the last five minutes had been quite disruptive to Jolinar’s worldview. 

“General Hammond, might I suggest we move this down the hall to the conference room?” Sam asked. 

“If you can make it that far.” God Bless General Hammond, and that acerbic sense of humor. 

Sam walked to the briefing room, the weapons of the airmen staying fairly steady as they progressed. When everyone had found their seats, General Hammond spoke. 

“Captain Carter, what is going on?”

Sam met the general's gaze and answered. “Jolinar is ceding control for the most part, and we are trading off speaking.”

“I can see that. It's enough to give a body whiplash.” General Hammond looked to Teal’c. 

“I did not know such an arrangement was possible.” Teal’c delivered his assessment with the same levelheaded cool. “It appears there is much I do not know of the species.”

“Onac.” The word pops out of her mouth, the explanation bare to her mind in a jumble of memories and conversations that Jolinar shared with her. “The species is most properly called Onac. They can survive in waters that are brackish, fresh, or marine. There are many different subject species that they have used as hosts. Jolinar rebelled from Cronus and joined the Tok’ra. The name means against -- Tok -- Ra. Rather literal.”

“Onac. It is not a word that I am familiar with. However, as Goa’uld literally translates as gods, the gods, or we the gods, I appreciate having a term for the species that is different from granting them godhood. It will also likely benefit us when making contact with the Tok’ra, given that they do not claim godhood, and that cultural divide could be contentious.” Sam smiled at Sha’re, grateful for her engagement in the awkward conversation. 

“Captain Carter,” General Hammond interrupted, and Sam turned her attention to where he sat at the head of the conference table. “Is there anything that Jolinar can share with us about where I’m sending SG-1? Colonel O’Neill is pulling together mission supplies for a variety of terrains. We are trying to get you sent out as quickly as possible, given the time-sensitive nature of the Jolinar’s information.”

Sam hung her head while Jolinar pressed memories at her, giving Sam the chance to assess what the mission might look like. It struck Sam, rather suddenly, why Jolinar wasn’t handling the briefing. Jolinar wasn’t used to having a reliable backup team, or an extraction plan. Sam felt the edges of a mission that ended up in capture. She shuddered as the memories of Jolinar’s torture at his hands leaked through before Jolinar filtered them out. Sam offered her memories, pulling up the training for surviving capture at enemy hands, what to do in POW situations, and how the psychologist said to contextualize the memories of pain. Forewarned is forearmed, they said. The gulf wasn’t a hot zone, she was allowed to fly her combat hours in relative safety, but there was always that risk.

The logistics of a team mission to the planet Jolinar had as her contact point were relatively simple. 

“From what she’s sharing, the Tok’ra base is pretty close to the gate so they can evacuate the planet if they need to. We should prepare for desert conditions, check in at three-hour intervals, and we should take a second team with us to guard the gate. We should expect interrogation. They have something called a Za’tarc detector, it's like a lie detector, but it can also scan your brain for anomalous memories, and checks to see if you know you are lying, when you lie. Jolinar is pretty well traveled, and even she is having a hard time taking us seriously as allies, the way we contextualize allies.” Sam looked at General Hammond and Colonel O’Neill, two men who rose in the ranks fighting wars whose tactics were again out of date. Two men she hoped would make the mental leap and be able to contextualize the galactic landscape and trust the intelligence she was gaining as Jolinar fed her memories and information. 

“The way that the System Lords treat alliances, they always have a direct goal and a time limit. We together go here and do this thing, Apophis and Klorel go conquer earth on behalf of their Queen. They have no concept of mutual non-aggression pacts. Klorel could kill Apophis in the battle for earth, and Amaunet would not be surprised. Queens shape their society, and Ra wasn’t just a System Lord.” Sam looked down at the table and fought to sort through everything Jolinartold her of the culture and dynamics at play. 

“Ra liked the Egyptian aesthetic and wanted to be the God of the Sun, the life granting light of the world. Ra took that place in the mythos, and so accepted the human gendered concept of masculinity. Ra was a reproductive, spawning Onac. As a member of the species, he was more like a queen bee or ant than anything else I can think of off the top of my head. Amaunet is the queen with the most power, now that Ra is out of the picture. Hathor is undoubtedly making a play as Ra’s heir. At the very least, we have information the Tok’ra will need to adjust their strategies. Their focus is mostly on keeping the Goa’uld infighting amongst themselves.

There was silence in the room before Colonel O’Neill spoke.

“We’ve taken a nine thousand year stalemate with some petty infighting, where Ra always came out on top, and we went and killed Ra.” Jack sounded bitter about that contextualization of his mission two years ago. 

“I don’t know that we can take all the blame for that.” Sam looked over to where Daniel was sitting at the end of the table. “Apophis, he wanted to topple Ra, he wanted to score some big victories and already had plans in the works to try and discover the old world, Terra, where Ra had found the hosts. Apophis wanted Amaunet to become the dominant queen of the galaxy, and he as her lord and consort the dominant System Lord.”

Daniel was looking around the table earnestly, meeting everyone's eyes in turn.

“Had Apophis conquered Earth, he would have had a political marker for Amaunet to play at the Council of System Lords. With earth at over 6 billion people, he could have carpet bombed planets from orbit, chased off or destroyed rival Goa’uld fleets, and transplanted in new populations on other continents, after moving the gates. That was his strategy before you killed him, those were the last monologues and fantasies he tormented me with, as we had the slow approach.” Daniel fell silent and slumped in his chair. 

“Well then SG-1 I am mighty glad you defied the Pentagon and saved the world.” General Hammond said. “Let's work to make sure that it is never necessary again. Jolinar, SG-1 will accompany you to the Tok’ra, and SG-4 will secure the gate. Captain Carter has my permission to make a solo approach if the Tok’ra you meet with are unwilling to allow the rest of SG-1 to accompany you. However, I need your assurances that Captain Carter will be allowed to return to earth and our efforts against the Goa’uld with or without you.”

* * *

Jolinar recoils from the thought of letting go of this beautiful, badass host. This host defended her from an Ashrak; this host chose to take her again.

_ *You are mine, and I am yours. Your war effort has yielded great results against the system lords. I will be an ally to you and those who earn your loyalty, Samantha Carter.* _ Jolinar made her host the promise, while yearning that Lantash and Martuf might be persuaded to join them on earth for this fight. 

Jolinar felt a wave of grief and joy wash through her host. 

> Now, Samantha sweetheart, you wait for a man who will love you and commit to you like Ruth and Naomi. Marriage is supposed to be forever, but it is also supposed to be happy. I want someone for you who will make you the kind of promise Ruth made:  And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee,  _ or _ to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people  _ shall be _ my people, and thy God my God.

* _ I hadn’t thought about what gramma asked of me in years. Gramma was a staunch believer, made mom and dad have the full mass for their wedding. I never believed like she did, and I haven’t been to confession since Chulak. I see the process and glitz of the churches, and it reminds me of Amaunet, and Apophis in all their splendor.* _

Jolinar flashed her eyes, enjoying the way it makes everyone at the table flinch and recoil.

“General Hammond, I will return with Captain Carter, even if the Tok’ra as a council wish not to coordinate with your people. I prefer your methods of direct action to the long subterfuge the Tok’ra council prefers. My host has shared with me how your people have studied warfare. We will topple the System Lords, together.”

Jolinar gauged the reactions around the table. The Jaffa dipped his head in a somber nod, a slow and clear display of emotion from a first prime. The Colonel seemed to brighten, and the General a brief sign of affirmation. It was the former host and the Abydan woman who held Jolinar’s attention. The host reached for the woman's hand, his eyes closed. Jolinar could see a faint tremble in his muscles. Jolinar breathed in the scents of the room and guessed the human fear to be his. The woman, Sha’re, met Jolinar’s gaze, and smiled. Jolinar saw in that woman steel and passion. Among everyone at the table, it was in Sha’re that Jolinar understood the human definition of an alliance. 

“Alright people,” The General snapped Jolinar out of her contemplation. “SG-1 you have a go, a mission to the coordinates of the current Tok’ra base camp.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What even is tense agreement *headdesk*


	8. Tandem

Everyone at the conference table rose, and Jolinar stood with them. She followed the colonel from the room and down a flight of stairs to the room labeled ‘Locker Room.’

 _*The other one, Jo*_ Her host corrected her.

*It might be best if you prepare us in accordance with your mission preparedness practices.* Jolinar loathed admitting vulnerability. She had been spawned to be a goddess, to rule under lesser mortals. It was an incorrect framework for reality, and Jolinar has spent several hundred years working to change her thinking. This host was worthy of that vulnerability; this host would protect Jolinar when Jolinar gave herself into Samantha’s care.

It was unsettling to hold herself back from her host. It was uncomfortable to watch, to keep her sense of the body withdrawn to herself. Rosha and the host before her had both taken it as an honor to carry her. Rosha, because she was committed to the cause of the Tok’ra. The lo’tar before Rosha had been raised in a temple, chosen in puberty for her beauty, and had forsaken her name to host one of the gods. She had held herself back like this from the Nyssian man, but that was to hide within him.

As her host dressed them for the mission, Jolinar got impressions of names of everything in the mission kit. There were so many elements that went into even a friendly mission into the field. When Jolinar went undercover, she had little preparedness, very rarely being able to take anything in with her. Her host had knives at her belt and in her combat boots, a garotte wire in her bra with a set of lockpicks. She had a variety of forms of rations, a powder to make water clean, and a straw that would filter several gallons before the filter was useless. There was a compass because most human habitable planets had a magnetosphere; the compass was a useful navigational tool for dead-reckoning and map making. There were so many little things that were a part of the mission uniform, that Jolinar was still marveling over them all when her host joined the rest of their team in the embarkation room. The gate was already whirling as it dialed the coordinates she had given the Sergeant in the control room.

“Sir.” Her host said to the colonel, and it rankled Jolinar that her host paid that deference. Her feelings must have leaked to her host.

 _*I’m part of the Air Force, Jolinar. It's one of the rules.*_ Samantha said.

_*Well, I won’t have to, will I?*_

_*Probably not. You didn’t enlist. You just blended with me.*_

“Colonel, you should allow me to lead,” Jolinar said, taking control only of their voice. “When we meet the Tok’ra, they must see that you are an honor guard, not holding me prisoner.”

The gate connected, and Jolinar strode forth.

* * *

The passage through the event horizon was as stark and disconcerting as it always was. As she walked forward and made room for SG-4 to secure the gate, Sam felt Jolinars assessment and recognition the warm, dry air; this planet's winter. Desert in midafternoon. Sam could feel it as Jolinar fought to keep her feelings to herself.

 _*Go ahead and share them with me, Jo*_ Sam asked of her new partner and was answered with a pang of homesickness and surprise.

 _*I did not expect to miss this world, nor to feel this pleased to return.*_ Jolinars voice carried a tinge of fondness, and Sam smiled and turned her face to the sun.

“Where to, captain?” Jack asked.

The path to the ring platform was evident in her mind’s eye, but the Tok’ra were skittish.

“We can walk forward a bit, but we should let them come to us, sir.”

They were just over a dune, out of sight of the gate when Sam heard movement around them and felt a wave of joy sweep her.

*Go ahead, this is your first contact.* Sam has no sooner thought the words to Jolinar when Sam feels their arms spread out. Her vision blurs and clears; Jolinar has flashed their eyes.

“Tok’ra, Kree!” Jolinar speaks with their voice, projecting at a shout even as she applies the resonation. “I am Jolinar of Malkshur, lately of the host Rosha, I bring grave news of her death, and further information on Apophis that should be laid before the council in chambers.”

Several figures rose over the dunes, and from sand traps. They were holding zat’nik’tel and staff weapons. Colonel O’Neill, Sha’re, and Teal’c all leveled their weapons in return, but Sam found she could not tear her gaze from the figure who stumbled from one of the pit traps near the top of a dune to her right and ran towards her, heedless to the danger as Colonel O’Neill trained his MP-5 on the man.

“Jolinar what of Rosha?” He asked when he is near enough to have stumbled to a halt just beyond arms reach. There was earnestness in his gaze as he searched her face, and Sam can see how badly he wished she were someone else.

“I was discovered. The Ashrak mortally wounded her, and she insisted I depart and seek a new host. It took many planets and several hosts before I found these, who guard me on my return to you both.” Sam could feel Jolinar’s love; proprietary and predatory. They were Jolinar’s and had been for several hundred years -- sorrow tints the feeling, followed by a yearning.

 _*I hope they join us on Earth.*_ Jolinar’s desire is there, but Sam could also feel her commitment. Jolinar would return to earth with or without her once lovers.

 _*Do you want them as your lovers still?*_ Sam can’t help asking, because this is a lot all at once, and she’s not quite ready to go from alone, to hosting with a set of lovers all in one go of it.

_*Martuf, the host, may not want another lover so soon after Rosha’s passing, and you are hesitant. Lantash was a dear friend before Martuf and Rosha, and he will remain a dear friend after you and Martuf both pass.*_

It was reassuring to know Jolinar wasn’t angling for more than friendship, in wanting them on earth with her.

Sam caught a flurry of memories. Of holding the man before her close, cuddled in a pile of blankets that are a riot of colors and textures. The open door of the chamber is safety to Jolinar, a way to smell and hear if something is down the hall, like the waters they were borne into. The Tok’ra have a different frame of reference for privacy and secrecy, and with the knowledge of a spy, Sam can see their vulnerabilities as easily as some of the security assessments she turned in for classwork in the war college classes at the academy.

Sam could feel Jolinar seething at the risks to her cause and her beloved alike.

Sam held still as the man in front of her reached out at touched her face. From Jolinar, she caught some of the scent markers Martouf was carrying, and the biofeedback tone that overlays when two hosts are in contact. Sam could feel his grief and his gratitude, and she ducked her chin and closed her eyes.

Another voice speaks, breaking her free from their shared moment.

“We will take you to see the council.” 

“SG-4, please inform General Hammond that we have made contact and are proceeding on to another location. Next check in, two hours.” The radio crackles as Colonel O’Neill makes contact, and Sam can feel a flash of worry from her connection with Martuf.

Sam opens her eyes and looks into the brilliant blue eyes of the host.

“We do not leave our people behind.” She says it with every ounce of conviction she can muster, trying to send a challenge through to Lantash.

The eyes of Lantash's host flash and Sam can feel a snap of pride conveyed to her before the hand drops from her cheek.

Lantash pivoted and walked away.

Sam wanted to turn back to Colonel O’Neill, to follow protocol and wait for his approval. However, this was a fraught first contact situation, and the tok'ra couldn't think that the Colonel or any member of the team would hold Jolinar hostage.

The ring platform was just beyond the next dune. Most of the guards had since faded away into the trenches and hideaways they had been watching from.

Lantash waited for them in the center of the platform, and Sam joined him. Sha’re, Teal’c, and Colonel O’Neill stepped close enough that they could all fit in one transport cycle. It was strange, when the ringflash cleared, to be standing in the tunnels that are both new and familiar.

Jolinar has seen the crystals of these tunnels planted and had long ago become accustomed to their variances in shine, to the tesselating panels. Sam wanted to touch, to marvel over the feat of engineering --

 _*Go ahead.*_ Jolinar stepped closer to the wall and places their hand on the crystal facet, and Sam was overwhelmed.

There are so many cool things they have discovered about the universe, going through the gate. This is another amazing technology that Sam regrets that she cannot share with the world back on earth.

There is a crackle of confusion translated to her when someone -- Lantash -- touches her arm.

Sam pulls at Jolinar, asking the tok’ra to handle her own people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the way this work is turning out! Thank you for your patience in sticking with me for so long.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this grew more chapters *beams happily*


End file.
